


This Little World We’ve Made: A Cherika Ficlet February Collection

by 1848pianist



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Asexual Erik, Birthday, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Dancing, Depression, Dysphoria, Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet February, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Museums, Rule 63, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College is hard, but it's harder when you're Charlotte and Erika. A navigation of mutant life in university.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get Some Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this great list of prompts!: http://fourteenacross.tumblr.com/post/107802175801/25-days-of-ficlets
> 
> These all take place in a college-era universe which I am going to explore further in a chronological AU at some point. There's no real order to these snippets, so peruse at your leisure.

About once a month, and all though the month of finals, Erika comes home to find Charlotte in a state of distress which suggests a national crisis rather than an upcoming biology exam.

Her usually organized desk is strewn with papers and open textbooks, her laptop buried somewhere amidst a litter of empty coffee cups. Charlotte is sitting in front of the mess with her head in her hands, her eyes flickering from pile to pile too quickly to be making any real progress.

“Charlotte?” Erika isn’t quite sure if her girlfriend is even aware of her presence and doesn’t want to startle her.

Charlotte glances up sharply, her gaze wavering for a moment before focusing on Erika. She’s clearly exhausted. Now that Erika thinks about it, she doesn’t remember the last time Charlotte went to bed before she did.

“I’m sorry, Erika, I can’t talk right now,” Charlotte says, returning to the work in front of her but obviously overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it. She runs a hand through her hair, yanking through some of the tangles.

“Panic doesn’t write lab reports,” Erika says with characteristic bluntness. She closes Charlotte’s laptop with a flick of her fingers.

“How did you know—” Charlotte begins. “Never mind—let _go_ , Erika, I need this—” She tries to pry the laptop open, but Erika continues holding it closed.

“You’re projecting your to-do list quite loudly, which means you’re exhausted,” Erika says. “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re this tired. You can have your laptop back when you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“I don’t have _time_ , Erika,” Charlotte snarls. “Let go of it.”

“No.” Erika comes over and leans against the desk, crossing her arms. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You tell me everything you have to do and when it’s due, and while you’re asleep I’ll clean up and work out some kind of schedule for you. Alright?”

“Thank you, Erika, but I just don’t have time to take a break right now. I’ll rest when this is all over, I promise.”

Erika doesn’t move. “Then I’m just going to sit here until you fall asleep in your chair. It doesn’t look like it will take long.” Charlotte is already struggling to keep her eyes open, after all.

“Fine,” Charlotte snaps. She slumps back in her chair, defeated. “But you have to wake me up in an hour. No more.”

“I will,” Erika lies, but Charlotte is so tired she doesn’t notice. She wheels her chair back from the desk, her head drooping a little with exhaustion. Erika reaches out to steady her, the brief contact the first between them all week, and kneels down so she can wrap Charlotte in her arms, the best comfort she knows to give. Charlotte leans into the touch, resting her head on Erika’s shoulder and closing her eyes.

“Sorry I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately,” she says.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Erika replies. “I can’t blame you for being busy.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it. Just…thank you. For putting up with me through, well, all of this.” She waves a hand at the piles on the desk.

“Most of the time I could say the same thing,” Erika says, trailing her fingers through Charlotte’s hair. “Go lie down. I’ll take care of this.”

Charlotte nods. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Erika watches to make sure she really does intend to sleep before gathering up coffee mugs to rinse out. Charlotte is still awake when she returns, though no longer actively resisting Erika’s help.

“Sorry,” she says. “I just can’t turn off my mind sometimes.” She gives a faint, worn smile, tracing the pattern of the bedspread with a finger.

Erika comes to sit beside her on the bottom bunk.

“Anything I can do?”

“Could you—?” Charlotte begins. “No, never mind.”

“What?”

Charlotte shifts on the mattress. “Could I just be in your mind for a while? Sometimes it helps.”

“That’s all?” Erika smiles.

“I know you value your privacy,” Charlotte says. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

“I don’t mind,” Erika assures her.

“Thank you,” Charlotte says, reaching out to brush Erika’s hand with her fingertips. Erika turns her palm up, weaving their fingers together as she feels Charlotte’s presence in her mind. She concentrates on the warmth of Charlotte’s hand in hers, and within minutes, Charlotte is asleep beside her.

“Get some sleep, _liebling_ ,” Erika says.


	2. Five Minutes Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erika has a really bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that the transphobia warning applies to, for those who need it.

It’s the sort of day in which every possible thing seems to go wrong. Erika wakes up late to find Charlotte already gone for the day and a slick layer of slush on the sidewalks outside her window. Figuring she at least has time for a shower, she quickly discovers that the hot water was out…again.

Freezing, miserable, and hungry from putting off breakfast for time’s sake, she still arrives six minutes late to class, which is just enough to miss a pop quiz. It won’t hurt her grade much, but the resulting bad mood is enough to put a damper on the rest of the morning.

 _Want to meet for lunch?_ she texts Charlotte after class.

Her phone chimes soon after with a reply: _Sorry, I can’t. My chem lab is running long. See you at dinner?_

 _Sure,_ Erika replies, more disappointed than perhaps she should be.

The walk to the student center is both bitterly cold and long, which gives her time to stew in her own irritation while freezing half to death. She eats alone, propping a book up on the napkin dispenser so she doesn’t look totally pathetic. There are a few kids from the student mutant group at another table, but she’s certain her bad mood is contagious today and doesn’t feel like talking to anyone else, anyway.

Raven spots her, though, and makes a beeline to her table.

“Have you been absorbing my sister’s powers of telepathic projection, or is there literally a rain cloud above your head?”

“Neither,” Erika grumbles.

Raven shrugs. “Just trying to lighten the mood. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing important,” Erika says, aware that none of the day’s events are enough on their own to explain her mood.

“It’s this weather,” Raven continues, always able to carry a conversation without anyone else’s participation. “Nothing but cloudy days for months.”

“Why don’t you ask Ororo to do something about it?” Erika asks with a little more venom than she intends. She stands, signaling an end to the conversation.

Raven just laughs. “Maybe I will. Don’t know how much she can do about your personal rain cloud, though.”

Erika doesn’t dignify that with a response, just walks back out into the freezing slush. With no particular destination in mind, she wanders back across campus in the approximate direction of the dorms, with half a mind to start on her homework before her next class. An icy wind picks up, hurrying along her decision.

Erika hates the cold. She always has. Charlotte has a ridiculous love of winter, stemming from snow days in middle school when she inevitably tried to coax Erika out in the snow. Erika always made a show of refusing before giving in, but in general her distaste for cold was real. Today it serves to exasperate her even further.

By the time she reaches the dorms, her hands are so cold that the thought of taking them out of her coat pockets to open the door is unbearable. In a gesture as natural as breathing, she twitches her fingers and the door glides open in front of her.

“Mutant!” comes a surprised voice from behind her.

She turns to see a white-faced girl staring at her with a mixture of shock and revulsion written on her face. Erika vaguely recognizes her from the hall adjacent to her own.

“You’re a mutant!” the girl says again, keeping her distance from Erika as though it might be contagious.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Erika snarls. She could make an effort to control the way the metal frame of the door vibrates with her anger, but she doesn’t. Let it scare the girl.

“You—you’re disgusting! An abomination!” the girl all but shrieks.

“So I’ve heard,” Erika says with barely contained fury. “But maybe you shouldn’t be saying so quite so loudly. Just think of all the metal you’re wearing.” Mutantphobes might be rarer than they used to be, but they’re not yet an extinct breed.

“You stay away from me,” the girl says with a panicked look, turning and scampering back out the entrance. Erika sighs, the anger fading to exhaustion. She presses her hand to the keypad and unlocks the door to the staircase with her powers, just because she can.

Once in her room, she tries to put the incident out of her mind and focus on problem sets, but it’s next to useless. Her phone chimes with a message from Charlotte just as she decides to give up.

_I forgot about study group. You should probably go on to dinner without me. So sorry!_

_It’s fine,_ Erika texts back, because she doesn’t want Charlotte to worry about her on top of everything else.

_I can make it up with a movie night later this evening? I promise I won’t cancel this time._

_That sounds good_ , Erika replies, and she has to admit it does.

*

But of course the faint hope that something might still redeem the day can’t last for long. She’s washing her hands in the student center restroom when another girl opens the door. At the sight of Erika, she gives a small “oh!” of surprise and half-backs out of the room, averting her eyes as if she’s seen something unseemly.

“Excuse me,” she says, nowhere near as bold as the girl from before, “but I think you’re in the wrong bathroom.”

“No, I’m not,” Erika snaps, staring straight ahead rather than look at her.

“This is the _girl’s_ bathroom,” the girl insists, still practically hiding behind the door.

“I’m aware.” Erika’s hands grip the sides of the sink, knuckles turning white. “Mind your own damn business.”

“I’m not trying to be offensive or anything,” the girl says, now indignant. “It’s just that you might make other people uncomfort—”

“GET OUT!” Erika screams as the metal taps of the sink crumple. The girl hastily retreats as Erika curls over to stifle a sob. She looks up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror, and wonders what it would feel like to smash the glass, and whether it would help.

She stands there, shaking with rage and a second from driving her fist into the wall, when Charlotte’s voice sounds in her head.

_Erika, what’s the matter? I can feel your distress all the way across campus._

Erika shakes her head, though she doesn’t think Charlotte can see the motion. Unable to reply with words, she pushes a collection of her memories of the day in Charlotte’s mental direction.

_Oh, Erika, I’m so sorry._ _I’m on my way._

_I’m just going to go home,_ Erika tells her, already slipping out of the student center and back into the cold.

_I’m five minutes away. I’ll see you there, okay?_

Erika beats her to the dorms, entering through the back because she’s less likely to run into anyone. She curls up on the couch and waits until she hears Charlotte’s key turn in the lock.

“Bad day, huh?” Charlotte says, reaching up to turn on the light. Erika nods.

“What can I do?” Charlotte asks, moving closer to the couch. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Erika shakes her head and shifts so that Charlotte has room to move up to the seat beside her.

“The movie night sounds good about now,” she says.

Charlotte smiles. “Movie night it is.”


	3. Faint Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's hard to see yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally finished it! I actually wrote most of this in time, but it was, let's just say, waaaay too autobiographical. So I edited (deleted) some things, and here it is. 
> 
> Warning for dysphoria.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asks as she enters the dorm. Erika’s mind seems unusually subdued, but with an undercurrent of restless thoughts flickering too fast for Charlotte to catch.

“Fine,” Erika replies. She glances up from her laptop, giving Charlotte a brief and unconvincing smile.

Charlotte watches Erika for a moment longer, a little concerned. Erika isn’t usually one to bottle her emotions, especially when something is bothering her. Still, pressing the issue is only likely to make Erika retreat further.

To keep herself occupied, but also to keep an eye on Erika, Charlotte goes over to sit on the couch and read one of the books she’s been meaning to get around to. She has plenty of reading for class tomorrow, but after a full day of labs she’d rather do anything else.

The book is a far more relaxing option than a textbook, but it’s not absorbing enough to keep her from glancing up at Erika every few minutes and noticing the crease between her eyebrows or the tense set to her shoulders. Charlotte tries to push the worry out of her mind.

“I can see you, you know,” Erika says eventually, shutting her laptop with a wave of her hand and coming over to curl up beside Charlotte on the couch.

“See what?” Charlotte asks.

“You. Worrying,” Erika says, leaning her head on Charlotte’s shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. Automatically, Charlotte shifts to wrap her arm around Erika’s shoulders, pulling her in closer.

“You just seem stressed,” Charlotte says, choosing her words carefully.

“Maybe,” Erika replies. Her arms are crossed across her chest, and even from the way their arms are pressed together Charlotte can feel the tightness of her muscles.

“Is it school?” Charlotte asks. “Midterms coming up?”

“No, it isn’t that,” Erika says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte sighs. “When you say that, it only guarantees that I will.” She runs her fingers through Erika’s hair, almost absentmindedly.

Erika turns her head slightly, following Charlotte’s touch. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“You don’t _feel_ fine,” Charlotte says. “Your mind doesn’t feel fine, it’s – I don’t know what it is, really, but doesn’t feel entirely like you, and it hasn’t for a while. Am I just imagining it?”

Opening her eyes, Erika shifts to look at Charlotte, the point of her chin pressing not-quite-painfully into Charlotte’s shoulder.

“No, you’re not imagining it. But I _am_ fine, or at least, I will be.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Charlotte sighs. Her hand pauses in the middle of stroking Erika’s hair.

“Wait, I think I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“Let me braid your hair,” Charlotte says.

“What?” Erika’s mouth twitches in the hint of a grin. “You haven’t done that since, what, high school?”

“When you started growing your hair out, I think,” Charlotte replies. “What do you think?”

“Okay,” Erika agrees. “Should I move?”

“Probably. Can you sit on the floor in front of me, maybe?” Two years ago, Charlotte might have sat on the bed with her legs tucked under her and Erika sitting on the edge in front of her, but it’s too much of a hassle to arrange all of that now, with her legs.

“Right,” Erika says, sliding off the couch to lean against Charlotte’s shins.

Briefly, Charlotte misses her warmth before turning to the task at hand.

“Ah. Could you get me a couple of hair ties and a brush?” she asks. Although Erika’s hair is fine enough that she could probably just use her hands.

“Yeah. Hang on,” Erika says. She has to look for the second hair tie, since she rarely uses more than one to get her hair out of her face. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte says as Erika repositions herself on the carpet.

After a moment of consideration, Charlotte decides on a French braid – pretty, but nothing too complicated. It’s been long enough since she’s done much of anything with her own hair, she thinks, let alone someone else’s.

As she works, Erika’s chin begins to drop, slowly at first, and then with a jerk that startles her awake again.

“You can’t fall asleep now,” Charlotte laughs. “You’re making my job very difficult.”

“Sorry,” Erika says, the back of her neck flushing slightly with embarrassment.

Charlotte laughs again and leans down to kiss the crown of her head.

“Almost done,” she says. “There.”

“Thank you,” Erika says. Charlotte is relieved to see that some of the tension is gone from her shoulders, as well as some of the restlessness in her mind.

“I could do your makeup as well, if you want,” Charlotte offers.

“Sure,” Erika agrees, in a substantially better mood. “What do you need?”

Charlotte tells her, deciding on more dramatic colors for Erika’s eye shadow and lipstick, just for fun. Ironically, Raven is better at this sort of thing than she is, but Charlotte still knows her way around with liquid eye liner.

Erika’s eyelids flutter underneath her touch, her skin warm even from a few inches away. Somehow, Charlotte thinks she finds this as relaxing as Erika does.

“Okay,” Charlotte says after a while as she finishes the final touches. “All done.”

Erika opens her eyes and looks up at the mirror hanging over the dresser. Something in her face changes, and in her mind Charlotte feels a faint click of recognition which, for a moment, erases all the anxiety which has been present all afternoon. Her thoughts go quiet and still, as though she’s mentally holding her breath.

“Erika?” Charlotte asks, hesitant.

“I—” Erika begins, turning to meet her eyes. _I’m not quite sure how to say it_ , she thinks. _It’s like…this is what I am—what I’m_ supposed _to look like_. _In some way, at least, if that makes sense. Thank you._

 _Erika,_ Charlotte thinks, _this is what you always look like. I didn’t do anything – just some makeup and a hairstyle._ She knows how Erika feels about her broad shoulders and strong jawline, but hadn’t realized that was what was bothering her.

 _I know,_ Erika replies, her thoughts warm, _but maybe you helped me see it._

“Then,” Charlotte says aloud, “I’m very glad I could help.”


	4. Half an Hour Before Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte is not a morning person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm skipping Day 3 for the moment but I'll return to it sometime this month. They're not in order anyway. 
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention in the first two but I'm taking on quite a bit here with a canon Jewish and canon disabled character, as well as my headcanon that Erika is trans. None of these things apply to me (although I am nonbinary), so if you see something wrong just let me know.

Erika never bothers to set an alarm, relying on her internal clock to wake her up at more or less the same time every day. She’s never had any trouble switching from asleep to alert in a matter of seconds.

Charlotte, on the other hand, requires coaxing out of bed most of the time.

 _Good morning,_ Erika thinks, pushing the thought in Charlotte’s mental direction. She traces up Charlotte’s spine with her fingers, laughing softly when Charlotte twitches away.

“Your hands are freezing,” Charlotte groans.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” Erika points out.

“No, I’m not.” Charlotte shoves her face back into the pillow and traps Erika’s cold hands with her much warmer ones.

“You’re the one with cold toes,” Erika retorts.

“I wouldn’t know,” Charlotte says and opens her eyes just enough to roll them at Erika and show she’s making a joke.

Erika rolls her eyes back. “Come on, time to get up.”

Charlotte props herself up on an elbow to look at the clock over Erika’s shoulder.

“What time is it, anyway? Is it even light outside?”

“It’s the dead of winter,” Erika reminds her. “It’s never really light outside.”

Charlotte snorts. “In that case, I’m going back to sleep and I’m not waking up again until I see the sun.”

“See you in April, then.”

Erika slides out of bed, not bothering to turn the covers back down.

“Hey!” Charlotte protests. “Did I mention that it’s cold?”

“Get up, then,” Erika says, and leans down to press her lips against Charlotte’s. Her eyes shoot open in surprise, her hand coming up to catch Erika’s shoulder and stop her from pulling away.

“No more until you’re out of bed,” Erika says with a teasing grin, leaning her head back.

“You’re impossible,” Charlotte says, but she sits up and stretches, yawning widely. “You could at least have the decency to make breakfast.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Erika asks from the desk-turned-breakfast table, where’s she’s plugging in the illegal hotplate. One has to make do with the limitations of dorm cooking, she supposes.

“Those are forbidden, you know,” Charlotte says with a grin.

“So is telepathy in an academic environment.”

Charlotte ignores that, breaking into another yawn as she transfers to her wheelchair with practiced ease.

“You know,” she says as she pulls on her favorite blue sweater, “I’m beginning to think I may be overscheduled if I have to get up this early in the morning just to have breakfast with you.”

“You are overscheduled,” Erika says without glancing up from the eggs she’s cooking.

“Just for this semester.”

“Right.”

“That may have been slightly optimistic,” Charlotte admits.

“I understand that you’re busy,” Erika says, with more honestly than she perhaps intended, “but I don’t want spending time with me to become another item on your to-do list.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Charlotte asks, pausing mid-stroke through brushing out a particularly stubborn tangle in her hair.

“No,” Erika says, pressing her lips together.

“Hey,” Charlotte says, moving closer until they’re nearly touching. “Look at me. This isn’t an assignment to check off. I’m not doing this because I have to. If spending time with you means getting up before dawn, I’ll do it.”

“I know,” Erika says quietly. She places her hand on top of Charlotte’s, squeezing gently.

“Good,” Charlotte says. “I can’t promise I won’t be putting _my_ cold hands down your back next time, though.”


	5. Useless, but Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte loves Christmas; Erika is a good girlfriend sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is beyond late but I'm still trying to finish! Enjoy the fluff while it lasts :)

“Want to come with me?” Charlotte asks, nudging at the edges of Erika’s mind with her telepathy. She’s wrapped in multiple layers despite the warmth of the room and the relatively mild weather they’ve had for December this week.

“Where are you going?” Erika asks, only half-paying attention. Mentally, she’s been grumbling all afternoon about the three projects she has due on Monday – _because the western civ professor doesn’t know how to plan a syllabus or even that civilizations outside Europe exist_ – and she assumes that Charlotte would want to get away from her irritation. Vaguely, she had been aware of Charlotte and Raven making plans that afternoon, but then she hadn’t really been listening.

“Raven changed her mind,” Charlotte tells her, unconsciously answering the question Erika had asked mentally and not the one she had voiced aloud.

“And as to where you are going…?”

“Oh!” Charlotte says, realizing her mistake. “To look at Christmas lights, of course. Want to come?”

“I don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Erika points out.

“I know, but you could use a break. And anyway, they’re pretty no matter what you celebrate. But you don’t have to go,” Charlotte adds quickly at the expression on Erika’s face.

Erika considers for a moment and then remembers with distaste the paper she still has to write.

“I’ll go,” she says. “If only so you don’t have to go out in the cold on your own.”

“Great!” Charlotte says, practically radiating holiday spirit.

Erika flexes her palm and the car keys levitate out from under a stack of papers on her desk. She takes a moment to revel in the satisfaction of never losing them.

“Show off,” Charlotte mutters, smiling when Erika looks her direction.

“Let’s go,” Erika says.

“Hands _on_ the wheel,” Charlotte says as they get in the car, Erika stowing Charlotte’s wheelchair in the back.

“You get to use your powers all the time,” Erika complains, only half serious. “And mine are no less reliable than yours.”

“True, but you drive faster when you use your powers,” Charlotte counters. “The point of this is to see things, remember?”

“Fine,” Erika says, making a show of holding onto the wheel, though in truth she can’t help but use her powers a little on the finer adjustments.

“You do remember how to drive normally, don’t you?” Charlotte asks, unable to resist making a final jab at Erika’s expense.

“Very funny,” Erika says. “I seem to remember you asking me to come?”

“Alright, alright,” Charlotte laughs, her mind brushing affectionately against Erika’s.

“Where to?” Erika asks.

“You decide.”

Erika lets her mind go on autopilot, not paying much attention to where she’s going. It isn’t often that she has so much metal at her fingertips or that she can sit with Charlotte and not do anything else, not have to worry about assignments or tests or anything at all. With Charlotte in her mind, there’s hardly any need to talk, anything she wants to say instantly translated into images-emotions-words that Charlotte immediately picks up on. At the thought, Charlotte looks over and smiles at her, reading the tenor of her thoughts from the surface of her consciousness.

“Ooh, turn here,” Charlotte says, pointing down a street that is lit up with holiday decorations, probably causing light pollution for half the block.

“I heard that thought,” she tells Erika.

“Maybe I meant for you to,” Erika says, smirking slightly.

“Fair enough,” Charlotte says, laughing despite herself. “They’re pretty, though, aren’t they?”

Personally, they seem kind of gaudy to Erika, but she makes an effort to see whatever Charlotte is looking at.

“That one is,” she says, pointing at a house tastefully accented with strings of white lights, glittering between much flashier neighbors.

“Yes, it is,” Charlotte agrees, leaning her chin on Erika’s shoulder to get a better look out the window. “What about that one?” She points at another house lit up in blue.

“That one too,” Erika says, kissing the top of Charlotte’s head before she moves away. “Useless, but beautiful.”

“Oh, stop it,” Charlotte says. “And that one?” She points at one of the flashing houses next to the white-stringed one, which blinks annoyingly from red to blue to green and back again.

“Not so much,” Erika says drily. Charlotte laughs softly in her ear, her hand squeezing Erika’s arm gently.

“Let’s keep going,” Charlotte says. They continue on, Charlotte pointing out houses here and there and telling Erika to slow down every few blocks. The streets all look mostly the same to Erika, but Charlotte is enamored, and the brightness of her mind begins to seep over into Erika’s thoughts as well.

Erika begins circling back to campus when she sees Charlotte yawn, first pulling into the parking lot of a café well hidden in one of the smaller neighbor hoods.

“What are we doing?” Charlotte asks, blinking sleepily.

“I hear that hot chocolate is a tradition for this sort of thing,” Erika says, smiling over at Charlotte.

“I’d say you’re right,” Charlotte agrees, perking up. “A very important tradition.”

Erika laughs, leaning over to kiss the corner of Charlotte’s mouth because for a moment she’s fully aware of how lucky she is to date such a delightful person. Charlotte’s mind glows happily and her lips curl into a grin as she kisses Erika back, one hand coming up to pull her closer.

“Thanks for coming,” Charlotte says, burying her face in the hollow of Erika’s shoulder and kissing the edge of her collarbone. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Erika replies. “And you celebrated Hanukkah with me, so it’s only fair.”

“That’s true,” Charlotte agrees. “Shall we go inside?”

“I suppose we should,” Erika says, stealing one last kiss.


	6. Something's Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another bad day for Erika.

Most days, Erika leaves the dorm before Charlotte is even thinking about waking up. It’s much too cold to go running outside, but that doesn’t stop her from making use of the campus’s indoor track during the winter months.

This morning, the icy wind hurries her along, ducking her head against the breeze. In the pre-dawn dark, she’s not paying much attention to where she’s putting her feet. Halfway along the path to the gym, she slips on a patch of ice and goes down hard, feeling a shooting pain in her ankle.

Stunned, she stays flat on the ground for a moment, catching her breath. _Shit_ , she thinks as the pain in her ankle intensifies, overpowering the throbbing in her wrist and the sting from where her cheek hit the ice.

She manages to sit up, but any attempt to move her leg causes more sharp bolts of pain that blacken the edges of her vision. Looking around, she sees that she’s well and truly stuck – she can’t stand or walk, and she’s in the middle of the sidewalk with nothing to hold on to between where she’s fallen and the dorms. She doesn’t even have her phone with her, not having expected any use for it, and she doubts if anyone will come this way for at least a couple of hours, when morning classes start. She hardly ever sees anyone on the track this early in the morning. Additionally, she’s not dressed for the weather, just in sweats and a light jacket, and already she’s starting to shiver uncontrollably.

 _Charlotte!_ She sends out a mental call of distress, hoping that Charlotte isn’t too deeply asleep to hear her.

Thankfully, the reply comes quickly. _Erika? Are you okay?_

 _No – I fell on the ice on the way to the gym. I can’t walk back – something’s broken_.

 _I’ll be right there,_ Charlotte says. _We’ll figure something out_.

 _Can you bring my coat?_ Erika asks.

_Yeah, of course – you must be freezing. Hang in there, okay?_

_Trying to,_ Erika replies, hearing her teeth click together.

The sun is beginning to rise by the time she sees Charlotte at the end of the sidewalk. By this point, Erika’s ankle is no longer throbbing, mostly because she can no longer feel it. She focuses on the feeling of Charlotte’s mind brushing hers to stave off panic, knowing that it won’t do her any good.

Charlotte wheels her chair as close to Erika as she can without losing traction on the ice. Her hair is in tangles and she has her glasses on rather than her usual contacts, barely having taken the time to get dressed on her way out the door. She hands the coat over to Erika, who pulls it on with a sigh of relief, although the haste of the motion makes her wrist twinge.

“Do you think you could get up here?” Charlotte asks, patting her leg. “It’ll be a little awkward, but I think I can get you back to the dorm.”

“Are you sure?” Erika asks. Really, she and Charlotte are probably about the same weight, all considered, but Charlotte seems so much smaller.

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me. I thought about calling for Hank or someone” —she taps a finger to her temple— “but that would just take more time, and it’s harder to locate specific people when everyone’s asleep unless I know them well. So, do you think you can make it?”

“Maybe with some help,” Erika admits. She isn’t quite sure of the extent of the damage to her ankle, but she’s fairly sure it won’t support her weight.

“Alright. Give me your hands.” Charlotte takes hold of her wrists and starts to pull her up.

“ _Not that one_ ,” Erika hisses.

“Sorry!” Charlotte gasps, wincing as the pain echoes in her own mind. Careful not to drop Erika back on the ice, she adjusts her grip and manages to lift Erika off the ground. After some further adjusting, Erika is situated in Charlotte’s lap, instinctively curling towards her warmth.

Slowly, they make their way back to the dorm and get Erika settled on the couch, her foot propped on the table in front of her. Charlotte throws a blanket over her and hurries to make tea to warm Erika up.

“I guess the campus nurse is out of the question,” Erika says, the throbbing in her ankle returning with the feeling to her extremities.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Charlotte agrees. “Not as you’re a registered mutant. No point in taking you all the way across campus to get turned away.” Her voice is unusually bitter.

“This has nothing to do with my powers,” Erika growls, angry not at Charlotte but the entire discriminatory medical policy that allows mutantphobic nurses to turn away mutant students.

“I know,” Charlotte says, aiming for reassuring but coming out equally frustrated.

“So what are our options?”

Charlotte runs a hand through her hair, thinking. “There’s a mutant in the student group with limited healing powers. Nursing major. She might be able to do something with her powers and have some idea of how to let the rest of it heal on its own.”

Erika leans her head back, groaning internally at the thought of being stuck with a broken ankle for weeks.

Charlotte sends her a sympathetic glance and presses her fingers to her temple, closing her eyes for a moment. In a matter of seconds, but after what was probably a full conversation, she opens them again.

“She says she’ll come by before classes.”

“How long—?” Erika starts to ask before there’s a knock on the door.

“Now, apparently,” Charlotte says. She opens the door to a blond girl with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Morning,” the girl says. “You’re Charlotte, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Nice telepathy.” She turns to Erika. “Let me see your ankle.”

Erika pulls the leg of her pants up enough to see that the injury is now angrily red and inflamed.

“Something’s definitely broken,” the girl says, probing gently at it.

“Can you fix it?” Erika asks.

“What, one broken ankle? Oh yeah.” She flattens her palm against Erika’s leg, and in seconds the pain recedes.

“The swelling will go down on its own. I’m not a miracle worker. I’d take the day off, if I were you.”

“Thanks,” Erika says, realizing that the pain in her wrist is fading too.”

“No problem. See you around!”

“Interesting character,” Erika remarks as the girl disappears out the door.

“That she is,” Charlotte agrees. She smiles slightly. “I guess no classes for you today. Doctor’s orders.”

“She was not a doctor,” Erika grumbles. “I’m going to class.”

“Not a chance,” Charlotte says, blocking the door and grinning. “On my orders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nursing major may or may not be Layla Miller.


	7. Surprise Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erika isn't the easiest person in the world to throw a surprise birthday party for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the prompt for day 7. What is order?
> 
> Also, I've decided that all the mutants are pretty much the same age, just because. Also because I want Kitty and Erika to be friends.

Charlotte knows that Erika doesn’t want a fuss. She also knows that a surprise party is more likely to result in mild irritation and overstimulation for Erika than a good time. Still, Charlotte isn’t one to pass up a celebration, so she devises a better plan.

*

Erika is on her way to class when Ororo stops her outside the science building.

“Hey, I hear you have a birthday,” she says, giving Erika a hug. Erika accepts it somewhat awkwardly, mostly surprised that Ororo knows anything about her outside of what they’ve talked about in the mutant student group meetings.

“Did Charlotte tell you?” she asks.

“It’s on your Facebook page,” Ororo says. “Not that you ever use it, but I still got the reminder. Anyway, I have something for you.”

“Oh,” Erika says, blinking in shock. “You didn’t have to—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Mutants have to stick together, right?” She hands Erika a book, cover face-down. “Here. It would be wrapped, but you know how things go.”

Erika turns the book over to read the title. _Magneto, the Mutant Leader: Mutant, Jewish, Queer_.

“I know how much you admire him, the way you talk in meetings,” Ororo explains. “Enjoy!”

She’s gone before Erika can thank her, or even really remember how to speak again. She puts the book carefully in her bag and goes off to class, feeling a little lighter than she has in weeks.

*

She’s nearly forgotten about the whole thing by lunchtime, distracted by the usual rush of the day, which is when Raven makes an appearance at Erika’s usual table.

“Happy birthday,” she says, sliding into the seat across from her and plunking down a box of homemade cookies. “You’re a hard person to buy gifts for.”

“Did Charlotte put you up to this, too?” Erika asks, quite unused to being given gifts from anyone who isn’t her mother or Charlotte. She doesn’t quite buy Ororo’s Facebook explanation, either.

“Of course she did,” Raven says. “How else would we know anything about you? I just wish she had given me a better idea than baking. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Erika says, beginning to wonder just how many surprise birthday presents she’s going to receive throughout the rest of the day.

“It would have been a cake, but it would have been half-eaten by the time it got to you. Also, cakes are hard, as it turns out.”

“You burned one, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I absolutely did. But don’t worry, the cookies are fine.”

“Glad to hear it,” Erika says.

Raven stands, gathering her things. “Well, this has been fun, but I have to get to class. And I guess I should tell you that since this is _definitely not_ a secret plan orchestrated by Charlotte to throw you a series of very small surprise parties, any other spontaneous gift-giving is purely coincidental. What did Ororo get you, out of curiosity?”

“The new Magneto biography,” Erika tells her.

“ _Damn_ ,” Raven says over her shoulder as she rushes off. “I should have thought of that.”

*

In their shared western civ class, Kitty taps Erika on the shoulder and hands her a folded note, weighted by something metal enclosed inside. The metal hums in Erika’s hand, purer than most of the alloys she comes in contact with on a day-to-day basis. Which means that whatever it is, it’s probably expensive.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kitty says. “I got it on sale.”

Erika opens the note, which is covered with well-wishes and birthday greetings from the other members of the mutant student group, most of whom Erika has never spoken to. The metal turns out to be a necklace. Attached to the chain is a beautifully wrought Star of David.

“Kitty…” Erika says. “You know I can’t take this.”

“Yes you can,” Kitty replies. “It’s from everybody, I just went out and bought it. It’s yours.”

With anyone else, Erika would argue, but Kitty is as stubborn as she is.

“Thank you,” she says instead, fastening the chain around her neck.

“You’re welcome,” Kitty says. “It looks good on you.”

*

“Surprise!” Charlotte says as Erika walks in the door. In front of her is a chess set and a box of pizza. “I would have made dinner, but that would have ended in disaster.”

“No doubt,” Erika says drily.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Charlotte asks as Erika comes to sit beside her on the couch.

“Yeah,” Erika replies. “You didn’t tell me you had set up half the campus on me, though.”

“I did not!” Charlotte laughs. “I told the group that your birthday was coming up and they volunteered.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Of course not,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around Erika’s waist and leaning her head against her shoulder. “I wanted to, though. Was it worth it?”

“Yes,” Erika says, putting her own arms around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Yes, it was worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not entirely happy with this one, but I guess you can't win them all. Oh well. 
> 
> And I'm sure I'm not the first person to headcanon Magneto as separate from Erika, but I really liked that idea. :) Now if only someone would actually write that book, as I would love to read it...


	8. There Were Signs and Signals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing the effect depression had on her mother, Charlotte fears it more than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This headcanon/interpretation of canon is pretty important to me, I guess. Takes place not long after Chapter 1.
> 
> Warnings for depression, disordered eating, and alcohol abuse.

After a long and stressful week and the painful realization that it’s only Thursday, all Erika wants to do is curl up on the couch next to Charlotte and close her eyes for the next couple of hours. Maybe she’ll find the energy to make dinner for both of them later, or more likely they’ll just order in and watch Netflix until one of them falls asleep, leaving their homework for the weekend. She guesses that Charlotte will already be hard at work by the time she gets back to the dorm, but hopes that she can be convinced to take a break.

The last thing Erika expects to find is Charlotte curled over her desk and crying quietly with her head resting on her forearms.

Erika snaps the door shut with a flick of her fingers to ensure Charlotte’s privacy and kneels down beside her, a hand placed on her back in effort to comfort her. Charlotte’s shoulders shake with sobs under Erika’s palm.

“ _Liebling_?” Erika asks. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte manages, her voice thin and strained.

“You must have some idea,” Erika prompts. “Did something happen?”

Charlotte shakes her head. “I _don’t know_ ,” she chokes out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Charlotte,” Erika says, quickly and firmly.

“Then why am I crying?” Charlotte asks, finally looking up at her. Her eyes are red and bruised with dark circles, and between the hollows of her cheeks and the ridges of her spine it looks and feels like she’s lost weight lately. Erika wonders with a pang of guilt how she didn’t notice and how long this has been going on.

“Have you felt like this for a while?” she asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Charlotte nods, a little hesitantly. “What’s wrong with me, Erika?” she asks again.

“Nothing,” Erika repeats. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but we’ll figure it out, okay?” She rubs her thumb in a circle at the top of Charlotte’s spine, feeling the knots of tension in the muscles beneath her fingertips.

Charlotte just blinks and rubs at her eyes, looking utterly exhausted. Erika wants to gather her up in her arms and protect her from whatever the problem is, but she guesses that it won’t be that simple. She can’t remember ever seeing Charlotte so miserable, a realization which stirs up the implications in her mind.

There were signs and signals and Erika should have seen them: the increasing chaos on Charlotte’s desk, which is never quite neat but always has a method to the madness; the way she has picked at her food lately, resulting in the shadows now present under her cheekbones; the number of times she’s come home late at night with the smell of alcohol on her breath. Erika knows that Charlotte drinks illegally at parties, the same as nearly everyone else on campus, but lately it’s become more frequent.

“I’m not depressed,” Charlotte snaps with unexpected venom, reading the thought from Erika’s mind before she can voice it. “It’s probably only stress. Midterms are coming up. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Yes, those things too,” Erika says. She knows Charlotte’s fear of that particular diagnosis, and how deep-rooted that fear is after seeing the effect it has wrought on her mother. And Charlotte knows, probably better than Erika, exactly what genetic factors she might have inherited to lead to the same diagnosis.

“And don’t psychoanalyze me,” Charlotte says.  “It isn’t your area.”

“It’s not,” Erika agrees. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know the signs.”

Charlotte presses her lips together and looks away, unable to meet Erika’s steady gaze.

“I want to help you,” Erika continues, taking Charlotte’s hand and projecting as much love and devotion as she knows how to without overwhelming her. “Tell me what to do.”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte admits, barely audible.

Erika can’t stand being helpless, especially where Charlotte is concerned.

“You should rest, at least. I can make dinner,” she suggests.

“Fine,” Charlotte says, more like she’s giving in than agreeing.

“Go lie down,” Erika says, taking it as a yes anyway. “I’ll get you something to eat and clean up your desk. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, resting her head on Erika’s shoulder in a gesture that could mean thanks, exhaustion, or a mixture of both. Automatically, Erika’s hand comes up to stroke Charlotte’s hair in the way that often puts her to sleep within a matter of minutes.

“Go on,” Erika says softly. “Maybe you’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

Charlotte nods and lifts her head, allowing Erika to stand.

“Thank you,” Charlotte says, after a pause.

“Don’t worry about it, _liebling_ ,” Erika says. Anything to get the haunted look out of Charlotte’s eyes.

She sets to work on Charlotte’s desk, stacking papers into more organized piles and throwing out what has just become clutter. Some things she just puts in folders in case Charlotte needs them later. She opens the desk’s largest drawer, intending to store the folders for later use, only to find a collection of empty bottles – suspiciously, no metal cans – all of which obviously originally contained alcohol.

“I knew you wouldn’t approve,” Charlotte says from the bed behind her, still awake. Had she been waiting for Erika to discover the drawer’s contents? Erika turns to face her, trying to temper her anger with the knowledge that Charlotte would not, under normal circumstances, lie to her.

“How long?” she asks, her voice sounding flat even to her. Charlotte flinches but stares back at her defiantly, jaw set.

“How long, Charlotte?” Erika repeats, crossing her arms to keep from clenching her fists.

“A month,” Charlotte says.

“A month.” In hindsight, around the same time Charlotte started making excuses not to go to dinner. She slumps back against the desk. “Why? And please, don’t say that you don’t know.”

Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut, but as sick as Erika feels, she needs an explanation. She goes over to the bed, laying her hand gently on Charlotte’s shoulder.

“Charlotte. Please.”

“I knew you’d be angry,” Charlotte says, looking up at Erika. “I’m sorry, I am, but if I had told you…”

“I’m angry that you lied, not that you were drinking,” Erika says. “I’m angry, yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I am…I’m _worried_ about you.”

“I know,” Charlotte says, blinking back tears again. She sits up as Erika sits on the edge of the bed beside her, eye-to-eye. For a moment, neither of them speaks, and then Charlotte leans forward, pulling Erika towards her in a tight embrace.

Erika cradles the back of her head and breathes in her ear: “Don’t push me away, please. You are not your mother; you have people who care about you, people who want to help you. Please, let us.”

“I know.” Charlotte’s voice has gone thin again, but this time she’s drawing Erika close to her, not pulling away.

“I love you, Charlotte,” Erika whispers, pressing her lips against Charlotte’s ear and holding her as close as she can. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Charlotte says.

Erika strokes her hair until Charlotte falls asleep her arms.


	9. Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every month, Charlotte and Erika visit the natural history museum on free admission day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, remember when I updated things. It's definitely not February anymore, but I'm thinking of continuing this.

“If this was a British museum, it would be free,” Charlotte grumbles as she pushes her wheelchair up the ramp. “Then we could come whenever we want, instead of on their one free day a month. Which is of course the same week as my biggest lab report.”

“You could have stayed home to work,” Erika points out mildly. “We’ve been here, what, a dozen times?”

“Fair enough, but maybe this time it will inspire me,” Charlotte says. “Come on.”

“Where first?” Erika asks as they come to a stop at the elevator.

Charlotte considers. “We started with the paleontology exhibit last time…”

“Anthropology?”

“You read my mind.”

Erika smirks. “Not my power.”

The museum is packed with kids and families taking advantage of the free admission, but Charlotte’s chair automatically creates a bubble of space around them.

“You’re not mind-melting anyone who comes near us, are you?” Erika asks.

“Shh. Of course not.”

It’s lucky the museum is designed with children in mind, she thinks, otherwise the display cases would be too high for her to see properly. Erika is good at describing in detail anything out of her line of sight, but still. Museums are there to see things, are they not?

When they reach a case of arrowheads, Erika grins and says, “Bet I can tell how old they are.”

“Yes, dear, it’s on the signs.”

Erika rolls her eyes. “Without reading them, obviously.”

_Showoff_ , Charlotte thinks, directing the thought at her. “Close your eyes.”

Erika does. “Okay. Try me.” With few kids interested in old rocks for more than a few seconds, they practically have the display to themselves.

“First to the right of center,” Charlotte says, checking the plaque, which tells her it’s an early Iron Age piece.

Erika’s mind hums as she probes it with her powers. “Atoms haven’t been touched for millennia. I’d say…three thousand years.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” Charlotte says, refusing to give her the satisfaction of being right just yet. “Two down from the farthest right.”

“2800 years, if my first guess was right.”

Late Iron Age. Charlotte grins. Erika is good.

“Fine…first one on the left.”

This one takes Erika longer. “Five thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

Early Bronze Age.

“Not bad.”

Erika opens her eyes. “Three for three?” she asks with a grin.

“Yes, as you well know. It doesn’t hurt that they’re in chronological order.”

“How would I know? I wasn’t looking,” Erika huffs.

“Let’s go,” Charlotte says. “You can pick the next exhibit.”

“Is there anything we haven’t seen already?” Erika consults the map on the wall next to the anthropology exit. Charlotte suddenly feels her mind light up excitedly.

“What is it?”

“They have a _model train exhibit_.”

“Oh dear,” Charlotte groans.

“An entire exhibit of it.”

The exhibit is inexplicably located in the museum’s basement, and full to overflowing with ten-year-olds. Erika’s mind is practically indistinguishable from the general delight flooding the room.

“Remember this,” Charlotte warns her. “I am holding you to this forever.”

“Says the person who once cried looking at a strand of DNA,” Erika says.

“Once. That was one time.”

“If you say so,” Erika smirks.

Charlotte smiles despite herself. It’s hard not to, surrounded by this much excitement. In the center of the exhibit is a giant model of the city, spanning at least the length of the auditorium back at their university. Charlotte doesn’t need Erika’s power to feel the buzz of energy from the crowd and the model trains populating the paper-mache buildings.

“It’s impressive, I’ll admit,” she says.

“Just imagine the display _I_ could build,” Erika replies.

“Who needs a dorm room?” Charlotte says, smiling. “We can just sleep in the hall.”

“Good idea.” Erika looks over at Charlotte, smiling. “So, same time next month?”

“It’s a date,” Charlotte agrees.


	10. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The college holds a Valentine's swing dance. "It will be fun," Charlotte says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I'm behind but I wanted to write this, so enjoy the fluffiest fluff I am capable of fluffing.

Valentine’s Day holds little appeal for Erika at the best of times. In theory, and at its best, it’s an excuse for rampant consumerism and public displays of affection. On a campus apparently populated exclusively by straight couples, it’s one of the last holidays she wants to celebrate. That’s not to say she ignores the day entirely – she buys Charlotte flowers and fashions a necklace herself out of odds and ends of metal. Charlotte seems to prefer her homemade efforts to grandiose store-bought gestures, and over time it’s become tradition. Erika can’t complain. Any time not spent guessing which overpriced trinket Charlotte might like best is time better spent, in her mind. In return, Charlotte usually buys her chocolate, familiar with both Erika’s practicality and her sweet tooth.

Erika expects this Valentine’s Day to be much like the others she’s spent with Charlotte, which is to say quiet, peaceful, and not involving other people.

Charlotte, it seems, has other plans.

“What do you think about going to the campus dance?” she asks.

“What do you think I think?” Erika asks, assuming that Charlotte must be joking.

“No, really, I think it will be fun,” Charlotte says, absentmindedly running her fingers along the chain of her new necklace. “Why don’t you want to go?”

Erika looks at her, half-amused. “One, I’m willing to bet that we’ll be the only queer couple there, and I have no plans to be stared at all night. Two, and more importantly, I don’t dance.”

“Wrong!” Charlotte says gleefully. “About the first part, at least. Raven and Irene are going, and Alex and Darwin are running the dance. They’re practically professional swing dancers; I’m sure they can teach you.”

“Hmm,” Erika says, as skeptically as it is possible for one to hum.

“Please? It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, alright,” Erika agrees. She can tell Charlotte really wants to go, and it can’t be _that_ bad, can it?

“Just for a little bit, I promise,” Charlotte says, squeezing Erika’s hand gratefully.

 

The room is full and wild already when they arrive, the dance already in full swing, so to speak. The speakers play something upbeat and fast-paced that sounds like it belongs to another decade, brassy trumpet echoing around the room. Charlotte probably recognizes the song. The room isn’t quite as crowded as Erika expected, which is encouraging. 

Erika would prefer to hover on the edges of the crowd of dancers, but Charlotte plunges ahead into the center of the room and Erika has little choice but to follow. She tries to form some idea of what to do with her feet by watching the other dancers, but it’s hopeless – there are too many people and the steps look far too complicated.

 _Don’t worry about it,_ Charlotte says in her mind so she doesn’t have to shout over the music. _I’ll show you_.

Erika doesn’t doubt that Charlotte knows what she’s doing. She has far less confidence in her own dancing abilities.

Charlotte takes her hands, the physical contact intensifying the assurance she’s projecting for Erika’s benefit.

“Just follow my lead,” she says above the music. She pulls gently on Erika’s arm, guiding her to the left and showing her a mental image of what to do with her feet.

Erika does her best, but her coordination does not extend to swing dance and, though she’d never admit, she’s rather nervous.

“The idea is to move, Erika, not stand like a statue,” Charlotte reminds her, grinning faintly.

“I know,” Erika growls, knowing Charlotte isn’t intentionally making fun of her but frustrated all the same. She shuffles her feet in an approximation of the dancers around her, prompting an encouraging smile from Charlotte.

“That’s it, you’ll get it.” Charlotte lets her practice the same step, far more patient that Erika guess she would be if their situations were reversed.

Just as Erika begins to find the rhythm of the movement, though, Charlotte changes direction. Erika doesn’t catch the mental nudge quickly enough, and the wheel of Charlotte’s chair runs over her foot.

“Sorry!” Charlotte says quickly, letting go of Erika’s hands and backing away a little. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Erika says through gritted teeth, more out of irritation than pain. She’s more frustrated with her own slowness than with Charlotte and trusts that her girlfriend will pick up on that through her telepathy.

“Everything okay?” Darwin asks from behind her, having already made the rounds along the edges of the circle, giving short lessons to beginners.

“Not quite,” Erika tells him, feeling the heat in her face.

“Do you want me to teach you the rock step?” Darwin asks. “It’s the basic step in swing. It can be a little tricky if you’re just starting out.”

“Okay,” Erika agrees at a smile from Charlotte.

“I’ll lead, okay?” Darwin says, taking Erika’s hands in a loose enough grip that Erika doesn’t shy away. “Just do the opposite of what I do.”

Erika nods, determined to master at least one thing before the end of the night. The concrete steps are much easier than dancing free-form, and she begins to think she might actually enjoy the night after all.

“Looks like you’ve got it,” Darwin says. “Next comes the spin, but better to practice one thing at a time, right?”

Erika smiles, more than a little pleased with herself, and glances over at Charlotte dancing with Raven and Irene, her head thrown back in laughter.

“Thanks,” she says to Darwin.

“No problem,” he replies, disappearing back into the crowd to locate Alex.

Charlotte comes up beside Erika, brushing her mind warmly. “May I have this dance?” she asks.

“Of course,” Erika says, taking her hands with more confidence. “Should I—?” she begins, wondering how to adjust the step to Charlotte’s chair.

“Leave it to me,” Charlotte says, squeezing Erika’s fingers.

Erika lets autopilot take over, repeating the step automatically while she watches the other dancers – and Charlotte. Raven and Irene dance off to Erika’s left and spin through a series of movements as though they too have telepathy. Meanwhile, Alex and Darwin are showing off from the stage, absorbed with each other as much as the performance. The moves are too complicated for Erika to dream of replicating, but the spin Irene pulls Raven into, laughing, looks manageable.

“Do you want to try it?” Charlotte offers, reading the thought in Erika’s mind.

“Sure,” Erika agrees.

“On three, then,” Charlotte says and begins counting down mentally.

_One, two…three!_

Erika goes under Charlotte’s arm, and for a second it seems to work – before she overbalances and topples into Charlotte’s lap. This time she’s laughing in surprise, infected by Charlotte’s good mood and the general exuberance around her.

Charlotte laughs too, kissing Erika’s cheek and wrapping her arms around her waist. Erika moves to get up, perhaps even try the spin again, but Charlotte holds tighter and stops her.

“Stay,” she says. “They’re about to start the slow dance.”

Sure enough, the music fades into a quieter song, the couples around them slowing. Erika twists at the waist so she can be face-to-face with Charlotte without tangling her feet in the wheels of her chair, pressing their foreheads together and circling her arms around Charlotte’s shoulders. She tilts her chin to meet Charlotte’s lips, watching as her eyes drift shut in contentment. Erika is happy to memorize every inch of Charlotte’s face even in the dim lighting, her hands curled in Charlotte’s hair.

“Get a room,” Raven says, just loud enough for Erika to hear her over the music, but neither she nor Charlotte reacts in the slightest.

 _What’s the name of this song?_ Erika asks instead, pushing the thought towards Charlotte. She wants to remember this moment forever, wants to relive it as often as she wishes.

 _Moonlight Serenade,_ Charlotte replies, affection bleeding through the connection between them. Her hands come up to frame Erika’s face as Erika, with Charlotte’s permission, takes control of the chair with her powers, spinning them in a slow circle.

 _I love you_ , Erika thinks with all the conviction she has.

 _I love you, too,_ Charlotte replies. Her hands are warm against Erika’s cheek, and Erika nuzzles into her palm, craving the contact. They say nothing more until the music stops, but the wordless feeling shared between their minds is enough.


End file.
